


riptide

by nevermordor



Series: Anywhere I Go, There You Are [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, First Date, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Introspection, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermordor/pseuds/nevermordor
Summary: Luffy unhinges his jaw and crams an entire breakfast ham down his throat. He chews reflectively a moment and then demands, “Zoro, you wanna have a date tonight?”Zoro answers by inhaling the rest of his orange juice through his nose and promptly spewing it everywhere.“That a yes?”--Luffy and Zoro destroy a restaurant, end up lost, get in a bar fight with a bunch of pirates and go on their first date. Not necessarily in that order.





	riptide

**Author's Note:**

> i was angling to write something slightly more angsty but oda/the reverie arc has run me over like a truck and i decided my soul needed something, uh, fluffier for the time being.
> 
> grouping this and a couple more fics together into the loosest possible definition of a "series" more for my own thought process than anything else, but each should stand fairly well on their own!
> 
> title inspired by vance joy.

It happens while his guard is down. His guard is almost never down, but it’s only a little past seven in the morning and Sanji’s been rambling for ten straight minutes about the restaurants on the island where they’ve just docked and Zoro’s already tired and ready for another nap. As it is he leans in the open doorway to the kitchen, sipping freshly squeezed orange juice, the sweat from his run on the beach earlier cooling in the morning breeze.

“—they have a trade system set up with five other islands in the area. Everything’s homegrown, despite the relatively small number of farms on each island. The ingredients they use in each of these restaurants are all fresh and local.” Sanji dances past, setting down an array of still hot donuts that make Chopper’s eyes go all big and shiny. “It’s extremely impressive, don’t you think?”

“Very,” Robin murmurs, not looking up from her book. Luffy isn’t paying attention either, scarfing down several pancakes and licking the powdered sugar off his fingers. Zoro watches him with a faint smile.

“That’s to say nothing of their steaks,” Sanji continues and sighs, wistful. “After we get One Piece and I’ve found the All Blue, I’ll have to come back to study their agricultural system. Farm-to-table is more than just a trend, you know.”

“Oi Sanji,” Luffy says abruptly. “You saying the restaurants here are good?”

“Only for the last half hour, idiot. And they’re more than good, they’re famous across the Grand Line.”

Luffy unhinges his jaw and crams an entire breakfast ham down his throat. He chews reflectively a moment and then demands, “Zoro, you wanna have a date tonight?”

Zoro answers by inhaling the rest of his orange juice through his nose and promptly spewing it everywhere.

“That a yes?”

Chopper squeaks, his little hooves trying to press against Zoro’s stomach, encouraging him not to choke. Zoro opens his mouth to reply and gags instead.

Luffy huffs. “I dunno what that means.”

“I think you startled him, captain.” Robin finally looks up from her book. “It might be best to wait until he can breathe again.”

“Would it?” Sanji mutters from the stove. Zoro’s vision is smeared with tears but he manages to aim a firm middle finger in Sanji’s general direction.

Luffy drums his heels against the bench with open impatience. Zoro takes a fast gulp of air and belches out a “Yes.” It isn’t quite how he’s imagined this particular moment but it hardly matters because of the way Luffy lights up at once with the look on his face that Zoro, unfortunately, likes so much. _The_ Look: the one he’d probably wedge himself down a sea king’s gullet for. It occurs to Zoro, between this and the way his throat is closing up on itself, that he might be a bit of a sucker.

“Cool! Let’s get dinner!” Luffy, pleased, settles it by snatching the two freshly baked loaves of bread Sanji’s taken out of the oven and bouncing out of the kitchen. Zoro hammers his chest with a fist as the last of his coughing dies down. He’s aware, with prickling unease, that Sanji and Robin are staring. “What?” Zoro says testily. Sanji is grinning at him. Sanji never grins at him.

“You ever been on a date before, marimo?”

“I been busy.”

Sanji’s grin widens further. “That’s a no. You got any clue how these things are supposed to work?”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Shit Cook.”

“More’s the pity, considering you have about five total brain cells.”

Zoro’s not as good with throwing knives as he is with katanas but he’s pretty sure he could solidly wedge the butter knife between Sanji’s dumb curly eyebrows.

“Doctress always said to use protection,” Chopper interjects, taking another donut from the plate. Robin’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Sanji, startled, fumbles his lighter. Chopper peers earnestly at them. “That’s what she told the teenagers in Drum when they made an appointment with her. Zoro’s already got his swords. So we ought to find a helmet or something for Luffy.” Chopper frowns. “Human mating rituals are funny. Reindeers don’t have much time. We only have about ten days to properly rut—”

In the past few months he’s been cut open by Dracule Mihawk, almost torn in half by Arlong and practically sliced to pieces by Daz Bones; this is the first time in their journey that Zoro thinks he might actually die. “It’s just Luffy,” he snarls. “And anyway, it ain’t nobody’s business but mine and his.”

“Oh, marimo,” Sanji says in a pitying tone that has Zoro seeing a flash of red. He makes sure to kick the galley door hard as he storms out.  
  
  
  
  
He likes a lot of things about his crew but by far his favorite things are that they’re stubborn and wild and, when it comes down to it, not particularly afraid of anything. Most of the time, when they’re punching would-be gods in the face and kicking warlord ass, this is all excellent. Occasionally it backfires on him. Even the strongest men tend to cower and flee when he turns his usual glower on them; Chopper, on the other hand, spends the morning trailing him with a clipboard and oblivious cheer, pestering him with questions about his general health and sexual history until Robin finally lures him away for their weekly book club. Zoro makes a break for the stern and a few moments of peace only to find his path blocked by Nami.

“What?” he snaps. Her lips are pursed and her face is a funny shade of red. Her hands are behind her back; this does not bode well. Zoro regards her warily. “What?”

She thrusts a book at him. It’s pink. The title’s written with lots of loopy, twirling words that make it difficult to read. On the cover there’s a guy, long-haired and shirtless. He’s got broad shoulders and an impressively muscular physique that would make him a decent opponent in a fist fight, except that his arms are already full of a swooning woman in a sheer nightgown.

“The lending rate,” Nami says through gritted teeth, going steadily redder, “is 1,000 beri a day.”

“What?” Zoro says again.

“1,000 beri for every day you borrow it from me. That’s non-negotiable.”

“I don’t _want_ it—”

She’s not listening, occupied with counting out the few coins that she’s somehow already extracted from his pocket. Zoro’s head hurts very badly. “If anybody asks you where you got the book from, it wasn’t me. I’ve never seen it before. We never discussed this.” She scurries toward the women’s quarters and then, after a moment of struggle, stops and turns back. “Chapter 9 is when it gets really good,” she informs him, her face now the same color as Luffy’s shirt. “But I think reading all of it will give you some good pointers,” she says and then mercifully flees downstairs.  
  
  
  
  
“Pointers,” Zoro grumbles as he starts chapter two. “She said pointers. What does that even mean?” Waves lap at the stern and Merry sways back and forth. He stumbles along the words, the incessant rocking smearing and jumbling them even worse. It’s not doing much for his headache. “There’s just a whole lotta sighing and blushing and shit so far. Don’t it got any fight scenes?” He flips the page.

Beside him Usopp grunts in protest. “Hang on, I wasn’t done yet.”

“I dunno know why she gave this to me.”

"Probably for your date tonight.”

Zoro grits his teeth and snaps the book shut. He has decided that everybody talks far too much on this damn ship. He stares dubiously at the cover, trying to determine what it is Nami thinks he’ll find useful. The guy’s hair is too long; it’d be easy to grab in a fight as a way to gain the advantage. He’s also got an ugly, moony expression on his face that reminds Zoro of how Sanji looks at Robin and Nami. Meanwhile the woman’s swooning so hard she looks like she’s half-asleep. The way she’s slumped uselessly in his arms, the guy’s going to have to drag-carry her up the mountain they’re posing on. So maybe it’s a _little_ like him and Luffy. “Where’d he come up with a dumb idea like a date anyway?”

“I think it’s nice of him to ask. You aren’t nervous, are you?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Zoro stares up into the sky, until the bright blue almost blinds him. “Oi. You ever been on a date, Usopp?”

Usopp scoffs. “Me? I’ve been on hundreds of dates. You wouldn’t believe how many girls back in Syrup Village are still writing me love letters to this day.”

“I see,” Zoro says, biting down hard on the sarcasm in his voice. “That include Kaya?”

Usopp fiddles with a thread coming loose along the hem of his overalls. “Uh, no,” he mumbles at length. “She’s the only one I haven’t asked yet.”

“Yet?”

“I will! When I go home again. I’ll be ready for her then.”

“How will you know you’re ready?” Zoro asks. A cloud shifts; sunlight refracts off the ocean and cuts his vision with an arc of light. He closes his eyes.

“I think…I’ll just know. That’s what my mom always said about when she met my dad. When you know, you’ll know.” He can hear the smile, tentative and awkward, in the tilt of Usopp’s voice. Zoro nudges him gently with his boot. Usopp nudges him back.

“Here,” Zoro says when Usopp clambers to his feet, heading off to target practice; he hands him the book. “Chapter 9 is when it gets good, I guess. Also don’t tell her I gave you this.”

“I swear on my life.”

“You better mean that,” Zoro retorts, “or we’re both dead.”

Even in the shade the afternoon is drowsy and thick with heat. He tries vainly to meditate but the reading’s fried his concentration. He sits with his eyes closed and his thoughts turn dreamlike and eastward towards home. By the time he was ten most of his classmates were already being visited by matchmakers traveling from island to island. One boy, Sosuke, smuggled a portrait of his betrothed into class to show off after lessons were over. “She’s the prettiest girl from her island,” Sosuke bragged when Zoro grudgingly came over to have a look. Her name was Chiharu. Zoro studied her long hair tied back in a ribbon, her thin face and slender shoulders and felt nothing.

“They’ll marry me off like that soon,” Kuina said later after she’d knocked him into the dust. It didn’t make any sense. She was in training. He told her as much and her knuckles were stark white where she gripped the hilt of her practice sword. “Those are the rules,” she said.

Merry’s sails snap in the wind. Kuina’s face swims away from him. Up in the crow’s nest Luffy sings to himself, something slightly off-key and improvised about the passing seagulls and whether they’ll taste good with salt or with pepper.

He’s nearly asleep when the boards of the deck creak to his left. His breath catches and he grabs for his swords; they’re kicked out of his reach and go skittering across the deck. “Oi,” Zoro begins savagely. A pair of hands grip his knees and another pair takes hold of his shoulders, manhandling him into staying put. He smells cigarette smoke.

“All right,” Sanji says. “We’ve discussed it.”

“What?”

Robin’s smile is pleasant. Sanji looks like he might be having a miniature stroke. “We agreed, since you’ve got moss for brains, that we’re going to help you.”

It takes a second for him to trip and then catch up. “What?” Zoro asks blankly. He’s been saying that an awful lot today.  
  
  
  
  
“It’s always admirable when a man can admit his shortcomings and accept help,” Sanji says. Zoro’s often fantasized about various scenarios in which Sanji would be forced to compliment him. In reality he feels less satisfaction and more an ever-increasing impulse to throttle Sanji. “You’re in good hands,” Sanji continues with an appreciative nod to Robin. She’s perched herself atop Usopp’s tool chest, leveling Zoro with one of her long searching stares. “Take it from the masters.” Sanji doesn’t look like much of a master wedged beneath Zoro’s hammock and digging through the pile of clothes stashed there, nose wrinkled in disdain. He looks like a tool.

“I only got five shirts,” Zoro snaps finally.

“And none of them are clean.”

“What’s wrong with the one I’m already wearing?”

Robin and Sanji exchange a knowing glance that Zoro does not appreciate in the fucking slightest.

“I think making a good impression is important. It shows that you care.”

“You could start by bathing. And brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, there’s nothing that can be done about your face,” Sanji adds, lighting a new cigarette.

“This is dumb.”

“ _This_ is the bare minimum, marimo. Make an effort, huh?”

Zoro’s scowl deepens, an argument rising in his throat and then dying instantly. He doesn’t know the rules of how one goes about on a date but he thinks that hanging out with Luffy shouldn’t ever feel this complicated. It doesn’t sit well with him. He glowers at his boots.

“I don’t know that any of us can claim to have much experience in this capacity,” Robin says at last, thoughtful.

Sanji grunts, unearthing a dark long-sleeved shirt that Zoro doesn’t even remember owning. “I don’t hate this,” he says, balling it up and throwing it at Zoro. “Wear it with the sleeves rolled up.”

“Don’t order me around.”

“Just do it.”

Zoro complies and is surprised when Robin makes a soft noise of approval.

“Good,” Sanji says and promptly blasts Zoro in the face with something wet that stinks like orange and cedar. Zoro wheezes, unable to swat Sanji away, or to fend off the fingers suddenly in his hair raking something sticky through it. “What are you—?”

“Hold still,” Robin says pleasantly. Zoro cringes as her fingers ruffle through his hair again so that it sticks up stiff and strange.

"You ought to bring a token of your affection,” Sanji says.

“A what?”

Sanji reaches beneath the cuff of his suit jacket and produces a single rose from his sleeve. “Like this,” he says as if Zoro’s the asshole here.

“Do you just carry shit like that on you all the time, you freak?”

“Uh, yeah? How else could I do this?” Sanji pivots to Robin and drops to one knee, the rose clenched neatly between his teeth. “You look beautiful today, mademoiselle,” he croons.

“Thank you, Mr. Cook,” Robin says bemusedly.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Zoro says and gets blasted in the face again with another wave of the orange-cedar crap. “I don’t _need_ perfume.”

“It’s cologne, moron.” Sanji gives him a long once-over. “There. I think that’s the best we can do.”

“Very handsome,” Robin says.

Zoro considers his reflection in one of the cabin’s tiny porthole windows. “I look the same as always.” He runs a hand over his hair, which now feels dry and a bit gluey. “Just feel stickier.”

"You’re going to have a good time,” Robin says. The smile she gives Zoro is warmer and less remote than usual. She’s probably been on loads of dates.

Sanji rolls his eyes, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “You are such a stupid piece of shit.” He’s probably been on loads of dates too.

Zoro’s grip tightens and then relaxes on the hilts of his swords, uncertain of what else to do with his hands. He looks at his boots again. Sanji sighs but it lacks its usual condescending edge. He takes hold of Zoro’s shoulder, shoving him toward the door. “Do us a favor, marimo,” he says and, when Zoro glares at him, smiles wryly. “Try not to fuck up too bad. For the captain’s sake.”  
  
  
  
  
The sun’s almost down behind the trees and Merry’s fiery red in its glow. She groans with him when he leans hard against her side, staring down into the water below. “You get me,” he says. Her sails snap in sympathetic agreement.

Shimotsuki was simple and traditional. Life there had order, a schedule and rules that organized their small dojo. Bounty hunting in the East Blue was small and it had rules too — ones that he broke, and often, but there was still a structure to it that he understood. There are basic and natural rules to everything, he supposes, not unlike in a fight: if he strikes from a certain angle his opponent will parry accordingly; if he feints they’ll lunge; if they stumble he’ll attack. Maybe it’s what Sanji and Robin were getting at.

“Whatcha doing?” Luffy peers down at him from the crow’s nest.

“Waiting for you, dummy,” Zoro says, exasperated. “And also, I dunno. Thinking, I guess.”

“Ohhhh. You’re gonna hurt your head if you do that too long.”

Zoro glares at him. “Get down here already,” he says, biting back a grin and Luffy at once flops out of the crow’s nest. He misses the deck altogether and goes over the side of the ship but Zoro grabs his arm and reels him back up. “Watch it.”

“My bad, my bad,” Luffy snorts. “Oh — you smell weird.” He leans in, his face pressing to the curve of Zoro’s shoulder, nuzzling the bare skin of his collarbone. Zoro nearly topples over the side of the ship himself.

“It’s not my fault,” Zoro says at once, “it was Robin and the Stupid Cook.”

“Yeah?” Luffy’s smile is absent and yet knowing. He makes no effort to pull away. “That was nice of ‘em.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zoro mumbles. He thinks of Sanji’s expression, a smile rather than a sneer; Usopp’s hunched shoulders; Nami’s blush and Robin’s warm and faraway gaze.

“You smell weird, but ’s good. I like it,” Luffy says and takes his hand. Zoro looks down at their fingers laced together. There’s a quiet thrill in it: like when he used to go diving off Shimotsuki’s cliffs, the moment right before he hit the water and came alive in the cold and the rush. Something knots tight at the center of his chest and Zoro pulls his hand away, shoving it into his pocket. If this bothers Luffy he doesn’t say anything.

They watch the shallow waves roll up along the shore. Over the crest of the hill and the thick, dark trees, Zoro can see the glow of the town. “How come you wanted to get dinner anyway?” he asks at last.

“Dunno,” Luffy admits. “Just wanted to. Also Makino told me if I ever liked anybody I was supposed to have dinner with ‘em.”

Zoro studies the port. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with the famous steaks,” he says, remembering the breakfast conversation.

Luffy’s gaze shifts sideways, his lower lip wobbling a little.  “Nah, ‘course not.”

Zoro smirks. “A real nice coincidence, huh?”

“Ain't it?” Luffy smiles broadly at him. “You ready?”

“Lead the way, captain.”

An arm curls around his waist, lifting Zoro off his feet and onto Merry’s edge. Luffy’s other arm rockets forward, his hand wrapping around the trunk of a palm tree on the shore.

“Don’t forget to do the call.”

“Of course!” Luffy says and they swing across the sliver of the ocean and the docks. Luffy throws his head back, yodeling excitedly at the top of his lungs; Zoro, as always, joins him.  
  
  
  
  
Despite being tucked away on the other side of a dense jungle the restaurant is packed by the time they arrive. Drunken laughter rises into the night air. Several people have broken out fiddles, weaving the melodies of a half-dozen old shanties together. The smell of meat and smoke is heavy. Zoro shoves a path through the crowd and scowls his way into claiming a small table by the window. Luffy trails after him, snatching bits of other patrons’ dinners, cramming it all into the pouches of his cheeks.

“I want every kinda meat you got,” Luffy says to the hassled waitress.

“Beer,” Zoro says. She stumbles off with their orders. He watches her go; he watches two heavily tattooed men arm wrestle at the table next to theirs; watches a band of musicians strike up a new song and various tables begin to clap along to the beat. He looks everywhere but at Luffy. It doesn’t feel all that different from when they usually have dinner, apart from it being just the two of them again. Maybe that’s bad though. Maybe like in Nami’s dumb book there’s supposed to be a lot more flirting or swooning or whatever the fuck. Luffy’s eagerly watching the other tables too, a long strand of drool hanging out of his mouth. His drink arrives along with a plate of steak and a plate of chicken that Zoro wrestles away for himself. He sips his beer and tries to ignore the voice that sounds suspiciously like the Stupid Cook prattling away at the back of his skull.

Luffy wipes his face with one arm, his other arm snaking out to snatch a loaf of garlic bread from the next table over. “You ain’t gonna eat?” he demands. Zoro goes to take a bite of the chicken and finds it already missing from his plate.

“I’m pacing myself.”

“Zoro’s thinking again,” Luffy says, spitting a chicken bone back out onto his plate. “How come?”

Zoro pauses with his tankard halfway to his mouth. “I’m just…trying to keep track of how much we owe. Do you know?”

“Nah. I don’t got any money anyway.”

“So…how are we gonna pay?”

“Dunno. Got too excited when I smelled the food. You got any money, Zoro?”

"Why would I have money, I’m just as broke as you are!”

“Oops,” Luffy says, bursting into laughter and spraying the table with half-chewed food.

Zoro slumps down in his chair. He reaches for his tankard and finds he’s already drained it. “I just want to point out this date was all your idea,” he growls.

Luffy reaches across the table, the back of his hand stroking Zoro’s cheek with rough affection. “Yeah,” Luffy says. “I know.”

It’s confirmed: he’s definitely a sucker. “So if I got this right, we’re gonna run once we’re done eating?”

“’Course.”

Zoro waves his tankard around to catch the waitress’s attention. “Can I have five more pints of the best beer you got?”

“And five more plates of steak! This chicken is gross!”

Luffy pushes aside several disgruntled patrons as he drags his chair around to the other side of the table. He slings his arm around Zoro’s shoulders and leans in close, mostly to get at the last bits of gravy on Zoro’s plate. They’re lost in the sea of the crowd and the haze of the evening. A new tune starts up, an old drinking song from the East Blue. Luffy only knows half the words but he sings along with the crowd and makes up the rest as he goes, rocking himself and Zoro back and forth in time to the beat. He’s vibrating with laughter and warm with sweat. Zoro drinks his beer too fast, the cold hurting his throat, his head swimming as he leans fully into the curl of Luffy’s arm.  
  
  
  
  
Halfway through his seventh pint he realizes Luffy’s stopped singing, his attention on a table occupied by a guy with a bushy brown beard. Beardy’s talking a big game. He’s very drunk already and, Zoro notes with another quick once-over, armed. So are his two friends: the tall greasy guy is concealing knives in his jacket and the fat guy’s got a gun at his hip.

“You don’t know who I am?” Beardy demands, grabbing the waitress’s wrist when she attempts to flee. Luffy’s arm slides off Zoro’s shoulders. Beardy slams his tankard against the table, making the waitress jump. He smirks, exposing a mouthful of rotting teeth. “I thought your job was to serve us, girl. So come over here and _service_ me.”

Zoro sips slowly, watching Luffy clamber up onto the table and cup his hands around his mouth. “HEY!” Luffy bellows, startling Beardy into releasing the waitress’s wrist. She bolts for the kitchen; Zoro tracks her across the room in case anybody else gets the bright idea to mess with her. “If you keep bothering her she’s not gonna bring out any more food.”

“Are you talking to me?”

“’Course I am. You an idiot?”

Beardy scowls. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with brat.”

“I don’t care,” Luffy says, unimpressed.

Beardy looks like he’s about to explode. His face is going bright pink and he keeps puffing out his chest like a balloon about to burst. “You looking to fight?”

“He’ll kick your ass,” Zoro warns him lazily. Beardy goes pinker.

Luffy cracks all the knuckles in his right hand. “Me and my boyfriend are gonna take you down,” he says and Zoro only chokes a little on the last of his beer.

Beardy’s sword’s is half-drawn when Luffy’s fist connects with his face. The greasy guy pulls a knife and Zoro’s instantly on his feet, catching the blade with Yubashiri’s edge. Greasy blinks in surprise. Zoro clicks his tongue in disapproval. “C’mon, fight fair,” he says, and throws his full weight into sending the guy flying.

As it turns out Beardy’s got a whole crew, which Zoro discovers when he turns to look for Luffy and finds a dozen swords and pistols aimed at him. Every single man among them is shaking in their boots. Zoro notes the slack muscles of their arms, the tremble in their hands where they grip their weapons. Luffy’s weight falls against him, pressing them back to back. They circle, surveying their attackers. “They look weak,” Zoro complains.

“They’re probably just scared of your face.”

“You’re gonna hurt my feelings, captain.”

Luffy snickers. “Hey, Zoro, swing me.”

Zoro hooks his arm through Luffy’s and then heaves his body to the left, spinning them. Luffy flings his leg out in a long whip, knocking men in every direction; Yubashiri chases after, cutting down whoever’s still standing in Luffy’s wake. There’s giggling in his ear and the room spins pleasantly with the blur of their speed and the beers he drank.

“You’ll pay for this!” Beardy howls, sprawled on the floor. Luffy’s arm uncoils from Zoro’s and punches him again, driving Beardy through a table, across the room and through the wall on the opposite end of the restaurant.

“Nice one,” Zoro says approvingly.

“What are you two doing?” The bartender screeches, brandishing a large kitchen knife. “You’re ruining my business!”

“What’s he so upset about?” Luffy demands.

“Probably the hole in the wall.” Zoro downs what’s left of his drink and then grabs Luffy and bolts for the door. “You’re welcome by the way!” he hollers over his shoulder.

“And thanks for the food!” Luffy adds brightly.

“You didn’t pay!”

“Don’t worry!” Luffy yells back. “As soon as I find One Piece, I’ll have a whole lotta money!”

“I don’t give a damn, _get back here—_ ”

Luffy’s bent double with laughter. One of his sandals slips halfway off his foot, tripping him. Zoro slings him up onto his back and they race through town, the crowd dodging out of their way. His blood pounds loudly in his ears, an undercurrent to Luffy’s laughter.

They slow when they’re about a mile outside of town and Zoro’s certain the bartender isn’t going to give chase. He picks his way across the uneven forest path. The moon’s a gold coin in the sky. Luffy’s still draped across him like a languid octopus.

“Hey Luffy,” Zoro says at length. “Back in the bar. What you said.”

“’Bout the chicken? It _was_ really bad. You should have tried some.”

Zoro chooses not to point out he was the one who ordered the chicken. “The other thing. ‘Bout me and you.” Luffy’s chin hooks over his shoulder. He hums in Zoro’s ear, tuneless and curious. Zoro bites the inside of his mouth and then spits the rest of it out fast: “You said I was your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Luffy says. “Ain’t you?” He says it so naturally that for a moment Zoro’s the one who feels like a fool for asking.

“I think,” he begins, “there’s probably more to it.”

“Is there?”

“I mean. It probably takes more time. And stuff,” he finishes lamely.

Luffy’s head drops upside-down into Zoro’s view, forcing him to stop in the middle of the path. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I…think so.”

“When you became my crew mate that happened pretty fast.”

“Well, yeah, but that was kinda—”

“And then after that you became my friend.”

“Well. Yeah,” Zoro says for lack of an argument. It had happened without him even noticing: a night without sleep, with good food and bad jokes, as quick and uncomplicated as Luffy himself.

“So can’t you be my boyfriend now too?”

Zoro considers this. “Well,” he says, “when you put it like that.”

Luffy’s head snaps back into place. He buries his face in the crook of Zoro’s neck with a contented mumble. Zoro hefts him higher onto his back and resumes the slow trudge back toward Merry.

Usopp said when it was right with someone you’d feel it. He still doesn’t know exactly what that means but he can sort of see what Usopp was getting at. He thinks maybe he’s felt it before. Not at the prospect of getting married off like his classmates or looking pictures of pretty girls but in the steadiness of being with someone who understood him. There were evenings after practice and chores and dinner when the scheduled rhythm of the day fell away and he lay sprawled in the dark sorghum fields next to Kuina, looking up at the stars. Or there were nights Johnny and Yosaku took him out drinking and they’d stumble home to camp hours later, Johnny’s head resting on his shoulder, Yosaku teasing him about nearly getting them lost.

There was something in him that went quiet watching Kuina’s face, feeling Johnny and Yosaku fall asleep slumped on either side of him: a funny ache that cut deep down through to the center of him. Luffy gives another sleepy half-mumble in his ear and the old ache pulses through Zoro, sharp as his blades, sharp enough that he thinks it could take him to pieces if he isn’t careful.

“Oh, Zoro,” Luffy cuts in suddenly. “Do you know where we’re going?”

They glance at the surrounding forest, at the distant glimmer of the beach. Zoro wracks his brain. They definitely came this way earlier. He recognizes the tree on his left from when they walked into town. It was on the left. He’s pretty sure it was on the left.

“We’re lost!” Luffy exclaims.

“We’re not lost!”

“Zoro, noooo.”  
  
  
  
  
Merry’s quiet when they get back. The crow’s nest is empty though Robin usually takes the night watch. Even though it’s not past midnight yet the light in the kitchen is off. Zoro sets Luffy down on the starboard beam. “Everybody’s asleep,” he notes disapprovingly. “Can you believe them? Falling asleep just like that? It’s gonna be a real problem if we get attacked in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe.” Luffy swings his legs back and forth.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “It’s a good thing I’m here,” he says, resting his arm atop the hilts of his swords.

Luffy’s smile is slow and easy. “Me too,” he says. “I’m glad Zoro’s here.”

The tips of his ears go hot. Zoro scuffs his boot along the deck. “Thanks, captain. For the date.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

It was fun. Of course it was, because one of the best things Luffy’s taught him is how to have fun, to find joy everywhere, in everything. He wants to say all this and more but he’s still buzzing with adrenaline from the fight and his voice falters. He takes a step back, ready to excuse himself, and Luffy hooks his fingers into the dip of Zoro’s collar. His knuckles are rough where they press to Zoro’s chest; the pad of his thumb traces the upper ridge of Mihawk’s scar. Luffy tugs firmly, once, and Zoro lets himself be pulled in again.

Luffy by his own admission isn’t good at much but he’s good at a couple of things, in his own strange and specific way. Fighting of course: the way he takes down enemies two, three, four times his size with casual cheer. He’s good at eating. Too good, maybe. More than anything though, he’s good at people. It’s not something that surfaces immediately but Zoro has glimpsed it in the way he always tilts his head a little to the right when he’s listening, processing, remembering. It’s only been a few months and yet he’s learned them all so well: quick to make Usopp laugh when his shoulders start to hunch up near his ears, quick with compliments for Sanji who still flinches sometimes like he’s expecting someone to kick him. Quick to give Nami trust and control; affectionate head pats to Chopper; a reason for Robin to smile on the rainy, quieter days at sea when she sinks into her own head.

He cups Zoro’s face in his hands. His palms are covered in calluses. His breath stinks and his hair hangs a little in his eyes. Zoro is very still; he lets Luffy look at him as long as he likes. “Zoro,” Luffy says and Zoro’s stomach swoops with that falling sensation again, like he’s tumbling over a cliff into warm ocean below. “Kiss me,” Luffy orders.

“Aye, captain,” he murmurs and obeys. Luffy’s lips are chapped and the taste of him is sharp with cider, with the blood seeping from Zoro’s lower lip where it got split open earlier. Hands fist tight in his hair and Luffy licks his way into Zoro’s mouth with the same hunger he has for everything in his life.

Zoro breaks away for air and Luffy’s hand immediately twists back into the front of his shirt. “Don’t stop,” Luffy whines and Zoro braces himself against Merry’s beam and kisses him harder for that, clumsy and with teeth. Luffy’s giggling, his chest humming where it presses to Zoro’s. His legs coil around Zoro’s own. His hands roam, stroking Zoro’s shoulders, playing with his earrings, cupping his face once more. He is restless and he is everywhere. Zoro kisses him until he has to stop again, his breath shaking and uneven, his face hot.

“Zoro’s so red. Like sunburn.”

Zoro nods mutely; Luffy nuzzles him. He has more things he should say. He can’t think so good though, with his hands sliding into Luffy’s unbuttoned vest to stroke his sides. His skin is pliant, his abdomen quivering as Zoro traces hard lines of muscle with his fingertips. I like you more than anyone I’ve ever met, he wants to say. But Luffy probably knows that already. Zoro shouldn't like being anticipated so easily, but in this moment it’s okay. It makes it easy to focus on what matters: the sound of them breathing in sync like when they fight together; all the places where their bodies press against each other’s; the way Luffy’s strong and trembling just a little beneath Zoro’s hands.

“I like kissing this way. It’s a lot faster than having to fight first,” Luffy says.

“Yeah.” Zoro grins. “We’re still gonna fight each other too though, right?”

Luffy answers by shoving him hard. Zoro trips over his feet and Luffy tackles him to the deck. They thrash and roll, Luffy giggling, trapping Zoro’s wrists and pinning him, and at some point, they’re kissing again. Zoro closes his eyes and lets Luffy take what he wants.

Out here, the Grand Line is vast and blue and infinite. There is no order or structure; his world shifts and changes and expands in every direction he turns to look and the East Blue is very far away. At the center of it all though is Luffy, and Zoro will follow him for as long as Luffy will let him. He thinks that’s good enough.  
  
  
  
  
“I guess I can’t say I’m surprised,” Sanji says.

Zoro cracks an eye open and is at once blinded by sunlight. It’s morning already. His lower back hurts where the deck presses into his spine. Luffy’s sprawled across his chest and snoring, a puddle of drool seeping into the armpit of Zoro’s shirt.

“Oh look, he’s conscious.” The sunlight’s blotted out as Sanji shifts over them, untucking a cigarette from behind his ear.

“Morning,” Zoro offers.

“What on earth did you guys get up to last night?” Nami’s with him, hands planted on her hips.

“A date, remember?”

“Don’t get cute with her,” Sanji growls. “You look terrible. More so than usual.”

Zoro lifts the hand that’s not pinned beneath Luffy and runs it over his face, wincing when his thumb grazes the bruised bridge of his nose. He swallows thickly, tastes old blood at the back of his throat and spits it out onto the deck. Nami recoils in disgust. Luffy yawns in his ear. “Mornin’, Zoro,” Luffy murmurs, his breath foul, his lips brushing the curve of Zoro’s cheek. He sits up fast upon spotting Nami and Sanji. “Morning!” Luffy chirps, pleased by the sight of them. “Whatcha guys doing out here?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Nami retorts. “Did you guys sleep out here?”

“I guess so. Zoro fell asleep so I laid down on top of him.”

“You’re the one who passed out on me,” Zoro grumbles. Sanji’s lighter flickers and catches; he exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze fixed on Zoro with narrow, dawning suspicion. Zoro swipes at his face again as subtler points of pain finally register: the throb of his lower lip where Luffy bit him playfully, the faint scratch marks around his wrists when Luffy pinned him down. Zoro returns Sanji’s long, hard stare with one of his own, daring him.

“Did you...have a nice time?” Nami asks.

“Yeah! The food was sooooo good, just like Sanji said. Only then I broke one of the walls in the restaurant and the old guy at the bar chased us with a knife and then we got lost. But Zoro helped me kick a bunch of guys in the face!”

“The pinnacle of chivalry,” Sanji mutters.

“That doesn’t sound like a proper date at all.” Nami says, glancing pointedly at Zoro. He thinks this means she’s disappointed with him for not doing what her book said. Either that or she knows that he let Usopp read it too, which means that Usopp’s probably tied to the anchor and at the bottom of the harbor by now.

“I dunno, I had fun,” Luffy says.

“Will you be going out again?”

Luffy’s brow furrows. “Going? Where are we going? Are we leaving already? Nami, you said we weren’t gonna sail out until this afternoon. I ain’t even tried the other food places on the island yet.”

Nami gets a funny look on her face; her eyes roll and she stares up into the sky for a long time. Zoro looks up too and finds nothing of particular interest. “I need a drink, Sanji-kun,” she says, sounding exhausted.

“Took the words right out of my mouth. Breakfast in ten minutes, losers,” Sanji says and leads Nami away to the galley.

Luffy pouts as they go. “Maybe they feel left out. We should take ‘em with us next time.”

“No.”

“Yeah! Let’s take everybody with us next time. It’ll be funny!”

“No fucking way.” Zoro scrubs the sleep from his eyes. Luffy’s still sitting on him. Zoro doesn’t bother to shove him off. “You don’t know how to do dates at all. There are rules and stuff for these kinda things.”

Luffy grins, his arms winding their way around Zoro’s shoulders. His mouth is very close to Zoro’s own; the sun is in his hair and his hat sits crooked on his head and Zoro feels like his chest might burst just looking at him. “I’m a pirate,” Luffy says, his forehead pressing to Zoro’s. “I don’t care ‘bout rules and stuff.”

He’s got a point there.


End file.
